Chapter Four: What? In Protoform?
Disclaimer: (checks) Nope, no moneys. No licenses. No copyrights. So that means I don't own jack shit aside from Nightshade. :)
To say that Nightshade was nervous was an understatement. Today was his final examination, his final trial to overcome before he could be an intern. His final day also translated to a heft fifty percent of his overall score on his examinations. Nightshade had spent the better part of the two months working on this project. The project itself was not difficult to put together - it was simply a fifteen minute presentation on any medical topic of his choice.
The hard part was presenting it in the command center. In front of thirty one other mechs.
Including Optimus Prime himself.
Nightshade fidgeted as Ratchet finished his weekly report and gathered up his materials. He must have said something particularly interesting because now every single mech in the audience was glancing over at Nightshade, who was cowering in the shadows. Ratchet motioned for Nightshade to come up to the podium.
It felt as though someone had ripped out his fuel tank and replaced it with a block of neutronium. His hands began shaking and Nightshade subtly shook his head. His cranial unit felt as though someone had filled it with those tiny Earth insects. What were they called? Wasps? It was a loud persistent buzzing. His fuel tanks fluttered most disagreeably.
Ratchet rolled his optics.
"It seems our rookie has a bad case of stage fright. I'll go and get him," Ratchet announced, watching as Nightshade steadied himself with a table. Ratchet gently put a hand on Nightshade's shoulder.
"You alright?"
The mech shook his head.
"You'll do fine. Just get up there and pretend they're all in protoform," Ratchet said, in a feeble attempt to cheer him up. Nightshade only looked more ill.
"I'm going to be sick," Nightshade whimpered out, glancing up at the podium. It was a tiny little thing, really, but in Nightshade's panic it had been blown up into monstrous proportions, complete with imagined fangs, flames, and torture devices.
"You'll do fine. I know you can do it," Ratchet said encouragingly, gently guiding Nightshade to the stage. Nightshade swallowed his fear and visibly straightened. Ratchet gave Nightshade one final, gentle push. It took Nightshade a minute to put the equipment together and hook up the wires to the presentation screen.
Then he turned and addressed the crowd.
"Today, my lecture will be system maintenance. We will first begin by reviewing what routine system maintenance is. It can refer to two types of maintenance – digital and physical. Digital refers to our computing centers, subcomputers, and neural interfaces. Physical, which is what this presentation is over, is maintaining order and cleanliness inside our bodies," Nightshade stammered out, fidgeting as he glanced around the room. There was silence. Either he'd bored them all to deactivation or they were interested. Praying it was the latter, Nightshade continued.
"This – " he said, motioning up to a screen, " – is what we look like on the inside. Note the proper sorting and arrangement of the wires and lines…"
Nightshade blinked when he noticed the blinking red light in his vision. A message? Never wavering in his explanation of his theory, he opened it up. A message from Ratchet? Puzzled, Nightshade continued reading.
Wrap it up, Nightshade. You've been up there almost a cycle.
Nightshade started at the realization – had he really been up there for so long? A quick glance at his internal clock and he winced. He had been up there for that long!
"…and that's it, basically. Anyway, I think I went over my fifteen minute bracket a little. Thank you for your time," Nightshade said, gathering up the disks and notes with shaking hands. Ratchet was going to kill him for taking up so much time. Then again, there really wasn't anything he could do about it. The presentation itself had taken exactly fifteen minutes. It was the question-and-answer bit that had taken an extra forty five minutes. Nightshade slumped in the seat between Ratchet and Red Alert, his gaze locked firmly on the floor.
"You did quite well, Nightshade, I'm very impressed," Red Alert said, patting Nightshade on the shoulder. The mech could only manage a weak nod. Red Alert turned an expectant gaze over at Ratchet.
"It was good," was all that he said, and turned his attention back to Perceptor's presentation. Nightshade's eager gaze fell in disappointment before he turned his attention back to the oil stain on the floor. Red Alert smirked. It took a lot more than a presentation to impress the Ole' Hatchet.
Meanwhile, thoughts were whirling away in Nightshade's computing center. Had he done that badly? Nightshade began scouring his memory banks, trying to find fault with his presentation. So engrossed was he in his frantic search that he did not notice Ratchet and Red Alert rise and make their way up to the stage.
"As everyone knows, we have a rookie in training. After many hours spent learning from the best – me of course – " Red Alert ducked Ratchet's poorly aimed smack – "Nightshade has been put through Pit. Ratchet supervised his practical exam, something that none of use lowly underlings have ever been able to scour from our processors – " This time, Red was unable to dodge Ratchet's swat.
"I would like to call Nightshade up to the stage now," Ratchet said, elbowing his friend out of the way. Red Alert only smirked. Nightshade approached the stage like a condemned mech. Was his failure to be publicly broadcast?
"I would now like to congratulate Nightshade for passing his examination. He is now our rookie/intern. Congratulations, Nightshade," Ratchet said, turning to the tiny mech. Nightshade only stared up at him silently. Ratchet extended one red hand to Nightshade. Nightshade looked up at him, then at his hand, and grinned. He let out an excited whoop and threw his arms around Ratchet's middle.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-"
Nightshade let go of Ratchet and threw his arms around Red Alert, all while bouncing like an excited sparkling. Amused beyond all belief, Ratchet picked up the certification datapad and held it just out of Nightshade's reach.
"You can have this as long as you promise not to hug the rest of the staff," he said seriously, a small smile on his face. Nightshade nodded vigorously, eagerly reaching for it. Ratchet relented and handed it to him. Nightshade tuned him out, instead focusing on the shimmering certificate in front of him. Nightshade didn't know how he thanked his mentors, or how he described how he had prepared, but somehow he did.
Now Nightshade was back in the medical bay. He saw everything through a new light now – he was an intern. Ratchet made an odd noise, a crunching of gears similar to a snort when he saw Nightshade standing in the middle of the room, an awed look on his face plates. Red Alert carried in a crate and set it down on one of the tables.
Nightshade whirled around at the sudden sound.
"Have you ever had high grade, Nightshade?"
"I've had a sip," Nightshade said, warily eyeing the contents of the crate. Ratchet and Red Alert shared a conspiring smirk.
"Do you want to try some? We always end a meeting with a few good drinks," Ratchet said, grabbing one of the barrels and peeling the top off. Red Alert soon joined him. Nightshade weighed his options – should he risk it? It was true – he'd probably only had half a barrel total in his entire life. Nightshade shook his head.
"Sorry. I…I'm not interested," Nightshade said, shrugging at his mentors. The mech turned and went to one of the energon taps and filled a cube up. After a good two cycles of talking, Nightshade was thoroughly surprised. Ratchet really wasn't as bad as they made him out to be – by Nightshade's opinion, he seemed to be a self-declared party-bot bachelor. Nightshade also learned that once Ratchet had a few high grades in him, he was much more friendly and tended to share stories of his 'conquests' in the academy.
"…so there she was, pretty little thing. I got her and her sister back to my dorms and found out that neither of them was as innocent as I thought," Ratchet said, shaking his head, "Can't remember their names, but Primus. I never met a femme that knew how to do that with magnetic pulses!"
Red Alert snickered quietly, nodding.
"Don't you hate it when that happens? You see a sweet, innocent little femme or mech, and they end up being absolute interface demons?"
Ratchet and Red Alert both, by some chance, happened to glance at Nightshade after that statement. Then they shared a horrified glance. No, not little Nightshade! He sensed their stares and looked up meekly. Red Alert had some sort of horrified look on his face, while Ratchet seemed to want some sort of denying statement. Nightshade shook his head.
"I'm not like that."
The mechs let out twin sighs of relief. Red Alert smirked at Ratchet before finishing off his barrel.
"So you're not some sort of pervert. Good. What about your conquests, Nightshade?"
Nightshade gave a sarcastic snort.
"I've been stuck on a ship with nothing but bonded mechs and femmes. What do you think?"
"What about Arcee?"
"That femme is like a communal can of polishing wax," Nightshade muttered darkly, "I'd rather do without than to risk whatever she's got."
Ratchet and Red Alert snickered – yup, that sounded like Arcee.
"Not even before you were assigned to Elita's ship," Red Alert asked sympathetically, smothering the snickers threatening to emerge from his vocalizer. Nightshade shook his head. It couldn't hurt to be honest, right? At least they wouldn't question him after his explanation.
"Please. I'm too short," Nightshade said, throwing out the first excuse he could come up with.
"No…Jazz is shorter than you."
"Yeah, but he can charm space barnacles off of a ship," Nightshade said, effectively ending the conversation. Ratchet and Red Alert shrugged to one another and continued drinking. Nightshade breathed a mental sigh of relief – at least they wouldn't figure out how old he was. Prime would have a fit if he found out that Nightshade was younger than Bumblebee!
Nightshade's an official intern!
Life is also about to become much more difficult for her. :)